Chapter 55 – Betrothal in the Balance

Alaric Morgan walked the halls of the Ministry pondering the events of the previous day, considering the fact that had things been even slightly different, his role in what had happened might have been changed. As it was, he had been very little threatened by the attack—he had been part of a judicial panel and had been engaged in the courtrooms, which, though it had been cut off from the rest of the Ministry, had at least been unaffected for the most part. Of course, had he actually been elected to the Minister's office, he supposed the Ministry would not have been attacked at all. But that did not in any way mitigate what had happened.

Of the Death Eaters' actions, Alaric could not think with anything but abhorrence. He had heard stories of the first war, and had understood that the Death Eaters had done things which could only be deemed as wrong, disgusting, and even immoral. At the time, however, though he had not agreed with their methods, he had thought he understood how love of their society could have pushed them to such actions.

In his heart Alaric still believed that Muggleborns must be purged from the magical world and made to stay in the world in which they had been raised. Or, the other alternative would be to remove them from their parents at birth and give them to Wizarding families so that they could be brought up in the magical world—he had never truly believed, as the bigots did, that Muggleborns were somehow intrinsically inferior due to the fact that they were the first in the family tree to be blessed with magic. The parents of Muggleborns certainly would not be affected should their children be taken away, as they could simply be obliviated, and the children would undoubtedly grow up happier, as they would understand the gift that they had been given, rather than only learning at the age of eleven. In Alaric's mind, the true danger was the mixing of the two worlds which was accomplished by taking those raised in the Muggle world, and allowing them into the magical world, not to mention all the Muggle family members who would necessarily become aware of the magical world by their association.

Whichever way was chosen, that mixing must be brought to an end, so that the magical world could become more secure, not only against their presence being betrayed to the Muggles, but also against the influx of dangerous ideas. Such so-called progressive Muggle thoughts had no place in the magical world, as those who were raised by Muggles could not possibly understand the history and conventions of the magical world. No, it was far better for the two to be kept firmly and irrevocably apart.

But the forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had crossed a line, and now that he had seen for himself first hand just exactly what they espoused, he was relieved that he had chosen the right course and refused to fall in with their schemes. They were little more than thugs and those out for their own gain, and Alaric in his heart, truly wanted only for what was best for his world as a whole.

But never in all his years of politics had Alaric expected to support Albus Dumbledore in the political arena. The man was a hero, it was true, and he was truly a force for right and virtue, but his aims were far too open for Alaric. He did not support an integration with the Muggle world, as some few extremists suggested, but he was far too welcoming of Muggleborns, and supportive of the continual ties they kept with their Muggle families. And yet circumstances sometimes meant that opponents must support one another, regardless of their differing opinions. It was a case of the Greater Good, as Albus Dumbledore liked to say. Alaric did not know if it was actually, but Dumbledore's way was certainly better than the one which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named espoused.

Today was to be another day in the courtrooms, trying petty criminals whose crimes could in no way be compared with what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had commanded in the name of blood purity. There had been some suggestion that perhaps such activities should be suspended, at least for a few days while the Ministry was put back on its feet, but Minister Bones had insisted they continue with their normal business. It would be wise to appear to the world that nothing would stop them from continuing the business of governance, regardless of the actions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Stepping into the lift, Alaric pushed the indicator for the tenth level, and waited for the doors to close. When they finally did and the lift began to descend, he looked around in boredom. It was the same thing he had seen nearly every day when he had made his way through the Ministry building, and nothing had changed that day.

Of course, that was when the lift suddenly stopped.

Catching his balance, Alaric looked up in time to see a face emerge from beneath what was obviously an invisibility cloak. The face was accompanied by a wand, which was pointed directly at him.

"You!" Alaric cried as he recognized the face staring back at him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The brilliant green spell impacted with him from point-blank range and Alaric, head of house Morgan, knew no more.

"Minister Bones, you need to see this."

Amelia looked up from her desk and the documents she was studying. Having slept in her office the previous night—she had transfigured her chair into a small cot to sleep for a few hours—she found herself bone tired. There was just so much to be done in putting the Ministry back in order; it would literally take months for everything to be put to rights, and that was if they could stem the tide of Voldemort's forces. There had already been two more attacks that morning—not to mention three which had occurred overnight—and the mood of the entire society seemed to have reached the hysteria of the first war with stunning speed.

"What is it Director?" Amelia asked, half rising from her desk.

Kingsley grimaced and motioned for her to follow him. "There has been an attack in the building."

Eyes afire, Amelia followed Shacklebolt from the office and they made their way through the lifts as he guided her toward the scene. "The body was discovered a few minutes ago by one of the clerks in the DMLE who was heading down to the courtrooms with some documents."

"Who was it?" Amelia asked.

"I think you'll understand the significance when we get there."

They arrived at the lifts to a hive of activity. Several Aurors were in the area, guarding one of the elevators which had been removed from service, while some were snapping pictures of the site, and others were combing the area for any missed information.

Robards, who appeared to be directing the investigation, nodded his head when he noticed her approach. "Minister. I should warn you in advance—it's not a pretty scene."

"I've likely seen worse, Gawain," Amelia replied wryly.

As Amelia stepped into the entrance of the lift, the first thing she noticed was the body, a person she recognized immediately. Alaric Morgan was splayed out on the floor, vacant eyes open staring sightlessly at the ceiling. His shirt and front torso were rent by a number of ugly-looking slashes, but though the damage to the body was extensive, there was relatively little blood, telling Amelia that he had likely been killed by the killing curse first. The reason for the slashes, however, was revealed in the blood red writing on the wall of the lift.

Thus perish all traitors to the Dark Lord's cause!

"Retaliation for his support of the executions?" Amelia surmised.

"That's what we suspect," Kingsley replied. "Whoever killed him, it appears like he was confronted on his way down to the courtrooms, where he was scheduled to participate in several tribunal trials this morning."

That piqued Amelia's interest. "Could there have also been a motive to delay a trial?"

"Unlikely," Kingsley answered. "I checked the docket this morning, and there are no trials of anyone suspected of having any affiliation with Voldemort's forces. It seems to be a revenge killing designed to show that Voldemort can reach anyone, anywhere."

"Question the defendants with Veritaserum. We should remove that as a motive and we might actually catch another supporter or two."

Kingsley nodded. "Of course, Minister."

Turning back to the body, Amelia studied it for several moments. "What is the status of our Auror and Hit Wizard corps?"

"Stretched thin," Robards replied. "We've stepped up patrols in some of the major magical locations, including Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, St. Mungo's, among others. We've also stationed extra guards at various locations within the building."

"We've especially concentrated on Diagon Alley," Shacklebolt spoke up. "You know what happened during the last war; the alley is a fat target, waiting to be hit."

Amelia grimaced, but acknowledged Kingsley's point.

"We need to better protect our workers within this building," Amelia stated with a hint of steel, choosing to focus on that which they could influence at the moment. "I want you both to look at further patrols or methods we can use to attain greater coverage within the building. Let's make it more difficult for them to target workers in out of the way places."

Shacklebolt and Robards glanced at each other, but they acquiesced readily enough. Not for the first time Amelia cursed Fudge and his insistence on hiding his head in the sand. If they had begun to ramp up recruitment when Potter had returned with the tale of Voldemort's return, they would have a batch of new recruits which had at least received some training—at least enough to take on some of the patrolling of the building from their regular forces. The way it was now, they had no extra manpower to fall back on.

"One other thing," Amelia stated as she turned to make her way back to her office. "Sweeping the Ministry for Death Eaters has now become a priority. I want your plan to do so on my desk by the end of the day tomorrow."

"Of course, Minister."

"Are you certain you want to do this? You know that Jean-Sebastian will not be pleased."

Apolline Delacour smiled at the French Minister. He was a good man, guiding the country with skill and adept leadership, but never losing sight of the people he governed. He was also a great friend of Jean-Sebastian's, the two of them having known each other since the time they were boys.

In this case, however, his concern, though perhaps warranted, was not about to deter her from what she knew was the right thing to do. Nor would he ever overstep his boundaries—Alain would advise and suggest, but never demand or order. He was much more mild-mannered than Jean-Sebastian as well, though when riled he could work up an impressive head of steam, but he rarely reached the heights of emotion which her husband could, though Jean-Sebastian's anger generally burnt itself out rather quickly.

"You let me handle my husband, Alain," she replied with little concern. "He will bluster and demand that I return to where I am safe. In the end, though, he will see things my way."

"Or he will simply give in knowing he cannot win the battle," said Alain in response, accompanied by a hearty laugh. "Very well. Your portkey will leave shortly." Alain drew her in for a brief embrace. "The best of luck to you, Apolline. Be careful."

"Thank you, Alain," said Apolline, and after a few more brief words, she departed to make her way toward the international portkey office.

Alain Dupuis truly was a good man and a good friend, Apolline reflected, and he had proven it beyond a doubt all those years ago, when the three of them had found themselves in a sticky emotional situation. In truth, Apolline and Alain had been on the point of dating before she had ever met Jean-Sebastian, and though she looked back on it now with the eye of experience and thought their relationship would likely never have progressed beyond that point, it had been Alain's introduction to Jean-Sebastian which had changed everything. Though Apolline was open-minded enough to believe that love at first sight was possible for the right people, she more firmly believed that true and abiding love took time and effort between the parties to develop. What she had experienced with Jean-Sebastian was an instant attraction rather than instant love. But this was as significant for a Veela as love at first sight might have been for anyone else. Though instant attraction was the norm for a man meeting a Veela—Veela were very beautiful, after all—Veela rarely experienced the phenomenon for any man. And beyond that almost instantaneous attraction, Apolline and Jean-Sebastian had almost instantly made a connection of friendship, which quickly led to an esteem for each other, and ultimately to love and more than twenty years of marriage.

A lesser man would have resented Jean-Sebastian for stealing away the woman he very soon may have been dating, destroying their friendship in the process. But Alain was not that kind of man—and for that matter neither was Jean-Sebastian. Upon only a few occasions in Apolline's company, Jean-Sebastian had instantly gone to his friend and confessed his attraction, and what he suspected was her positive response. Alain had listened calmly, and then they had talked it out, with Alain becoming convinced that his friend had made a deeper attachment with her in only a few short meetings, than Alain had managed in more than a year. After a lengthy conversation, Alain had ultimately given his blessing to the relationship, telling Apolline that if she possessed any intelligence at all, she would not let go of his friend. Such was the strength of their friendship.

It had been a little awkward in the beginning, but Apolline and Jean-Sebastian had been determined to keep their growing relationship private so as to avoid rubbing it in the face of their mutual friend, while Alain had in turn been determined that if it was what she and Jean-Sebastian wanted, then his previous relationship with Apolline would not stand in their way. In the end it had all worked out, such that when Alain had fallen in love with the woman who would become his wife a year later, he had no greater encouragement than that of his two friends, who were themselves newly married. Celeste Dupuis was a lovely woman who had fit into Alain's life much as Apolline had with Jean-Sebastian, and Alain had been known in later years to comment that he was truly happy that Jean-Sebastian had shown up on the scene when he had, as a relationship with Apolline might have caused him to miss the opportunity to marry the love of his life.

Now the families were as close as could be. Alain's oldest—a son—was two years older than Fleur—their having a child first despite following Apolline and Jean-Sebastian to the altar entirely due to the difficulty Veela had in conceiving—while their second and third children were both older than Gabrielle. The youngest—a girl of twelve years—was close enough in age to Gabrielle, that she was considered to be a cherished older sister by Apolline's youngest child. In fact, Apolline and Celeste had discussed how wonderful it would be if Phillipe Dupuis would marry Fleur, thereby tightening the bonds between the two families even further. The marriage contract had put any thought of that eventuality to rest—and it had only been a passing and fond dream anyway—but Apolline thought that it likely would not have happened regardless. Phillipe appeared to be completely enthralled by his girlfriend, a childhood sweetheart, and growing up in close proximity to Fleur had led him to consider her more of a sister than a prospective mate. As a Veela, Apolline had known that a young man like Phillipe would have taken care of and loved her daughter, always a worry for any Veela mother, considering how they were perceived in certain levels of society. Now she had Harry to fill that role admirably, so it was a moot point.

It was a busy morning in the French Ministry, with workers and visitors alike making their way this way and that, but Apolline saw very little of it. The thoughts of her past and her association with the Minister sped past, and all too soon the direction of her musing changed to the current situation, and she was soon too immersed in those thoughts to truly pay any attention to anything so mundane as her surroundings.

When Apolline had arrived at the portkey office, she swiftly made her way to the appropriate queue and was soon conducted to the correct location with little fuss. Being the wife of a high-ranking government official and personal friend to the Minister certainly had its perks, though there were actually few people attempting to travel to England, unsurprisingly, considering the troubles there. It was only a few moments later when she found herself standing in the British portkey reception area, where a familiar face awaited her.

"Apolline," Minister Bones greeted, stepping forward to briefly embrace her. "Welcome back to England. You have my apologies for the manner in which you were forced to leave."

"Thank you, Amelia," Apolline responded. "Jean-Sebastian does not know that I am

coming?"

"No, he has not been informed as you requested." Amelia peered at her with some concern. "I cannot imagine he'll be happy that you returned without speaking with him first."

Apolline laughed. "You're the second minister this morning to tell me that. I assure you—this is the best way to deal with my return. I will present it as a fait accompli to Jean-Sebastian and he will have no choice but to accept it. I will not stay in France while my husband and eldest daughter are in danger here."

Amelia's responding smile was wry. "I can't say that I blame you, though I might question your sanity. Be that as it may, I have a portkey which will take you to the edge of Hogwarts' wards where someone will meet you. Good luck."

Taking the offered portkey from Amelia, Apolline voiced her thanks before activating it. Amelia and the Ministry disappeared in a swirl of color and after another journey of indeterminate time, Apolline found herself standing a short distance in front of the main entrance to the venerable institution. Not far from where she was standing, someone else familiar to her was waiting.

Noting the look on his face, Apolline laughed. "Don't even say it, Sirius! I've already heard the lecture about how my husband will not be happy with me twice this morning—three times if you count my mother-in-law's quiet disapproval."

Grinning, Sirius bowed extravagantly and gestured toward the castle. "Far be it for me to incur your wrath, milady."

Apolline looked sidelong at him. "What's with the welcoming committee?"

"Dumbledore," Sirius replied. "The normal wards are focused on keeping out intruders, and those without an express need to enter, and to a certain degree, those who intend to do harm—if you fail any of those criteria, then the wards deny you access. But with the attacks yesterday, the Headmaster decided that was not enough, and he activated the greater defenses. Now, in addition to the standard wards, anyone coming into the castle must be escorted in by one of the professors."

"Won't that make difficult when the students arrive in the fall?"

"The Headmaster can relax them again for specific circumstances," Sirius replied. "But we would prefer not to take chances with the safety of the children."

"Understandable," Apolline replied.

Silence reigned for the next several minutes as they entered the castle through the main gates and stepped into the entrance hall. As it was nearing the middle of the day, the students attending the school were in evidence, many heading to the Great Hall for their midday repast, or scampering this way or that, relieved to be free from their morning classes. Of her daughter or her friends there was no sign—given that Jean-Sebastian had been injured in the attack, she surmised that Fleur was probably in the medical wing with her father. There was no time like the present—it would be best to brave Jean-Sebastian's displeasure immediately, so that they could move on to what was important.

"How are you doing?" Sirius spoke from her side. She turned and looked at him, and he responded with a wry grin. "We heard you had been injured in the attack on the Ambassador's Manor."

"I am well, Sirius," she responded, perhaps a trifle flippantly. She was well and if there was a slight residual pain from the injury—which the healer had assured her would be gone by the following day—she certainly would not admit that to Sirius, let alone to her husband. "It was minor and it happened when I was in my bird form, which is naturally more resilient and resistant to injury."

"Try telling that to your husband. The kids told me that he was nearly frantic with worry. He apparently tried to get out of his bed and take Voldemort to task by himself."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Apolline replied with a wry smile. He truly was the best of men, though he had a tendency to be pigheaded and overprotective. Still, it was wonderful to inspire the kind of love he had for her.

"Apolline," Sirius said, stopping her as they neared the hospital wing, "go easy on him. I know why you are here and I understand your reasons, but it's a guy's prerogative to protect his loved ones, you know?"

This last was spoken with a crooked smile, the likes of which might have set many hearts to fluttering. He was a devastatingly handsome man and a good and loyal friend, and had she not known him, Apolline might have thought that he was trying to put the moves on her. But Sirius, though he may be somewhat of a ladies' man, was no cad to move in on the wife of a friend.

"I have no intention of being hard on him," Apolline replied. "I understand what he wants and why. I simply do not agree."

A grin crossed Sirius's lips and he once again began to walk. "I understand the benefits of having a companion in life, but sometimes it's easier when you just have to worry about yourself."

"I don't doubt it," Apolline agreed, amused at his declaration. "But it's also a lot lonelier."

"It is at that."

When they reached the doors, Sirius bowed and motioned her forward. "Here is where I leave you, milady."

"Oh come on, Sirius," Apolline said while struggling to contain her mirth. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."

Sirius grinned. "I'm sure it won't. But I'm needed in the Great Hall. Much as I would likely enjoy the performance, I really should get back."

"We really do need to get you a wife, Sirius," Apolline teased. "You enjoy the foibles of married couples far too much. It would do you good to experience them for yourself."

"Ah, perhaps I should," he said knowingly. "But I might yet manage that on my own, and without any help from well-meaning but meddling friends."

With a wink, Sirius turned and strode back down toward the Great Hall, leaving a bemused Apolline behind, wondering just what he had meant by his parting words. Was Sirius actually dating someone, or was he just putting her off?

With determination, Apolline put such thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things—it was now time to brave the lion in his den.

Opening the door, Apolline stepped into the hospital wing, noting at once that the room appeared empty save for five people—Jean-Sebastian, the three children and the school matron, who was hovering over Jean-Sebastian's bed, her wand waving in complicated patterns, which appeared to be diagnostic charms. The children were standing to one side, obviously waiting for what appeared to be the matron's final examination before Jean-Sebastian was released from the wing. As expected, Jean-Sebastian watched her enter, his eyes comically wide with surprise, before an expression of pure displeasure fell over him like night falling over a darkened landscape.

"Apolline," he greeted her with very little of the warmth which he usually reserved for her. "What are you doing here?"

Deciding that it was best to ignore his pique, Apolline stepped forward and, after kissing Fleur on the forehead and saying a quick greeting to the other two children, she approached her husband and greeted him with a kiss as well, though his was on the cheek.

"It is wonderful to see you too, darling."

Jean-Sebastian's eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Apolline—" Jean-Sebastian began in a warning tone, but Apolline cut him off.

"Perhaps we should take this behind closed doors?"

Eyeing her with some annoyance, Jean-Sebastian sighed. "Will it change anything?"

"No," Apolline replied with cheerful nonchalance. "I believe we have had this very conversation before, and it did not convince me then. I'm not sure why you would think it would convince me now."

"That was before you were attacked by Voldemort himself," Jean-Sebastian pointed out.

"In my mind, it doesn't make any difference," Apolline chided with a gentleness which was akin to speaking to a child. "If I am killed by a Death Eater's killing curse, am I any less dead than if Voldemort himself cast the spell?"

"No, but you have a better chance of survival against a Death Eater." He paused and then muttered under his breath, though still loud enough for Apolline to hear, "And I doubt that they wanted to let you off so easily."

"I'm sure you're correct," she agreed easily. "But I have told you before—I will not stay in France while you and Fleur," she put and arm around Fleur and gathered her close, "face the danger of Voldemort here."

"Maman," Fleur broke into the discussion, "where is Gabrielle?"

"With your grandmother. And not happy at all to be there, I assure you." Apolline directed her next comment to Jean-Sebastian. "Your mother has taken Gabrielle to the property in the Alps. Few know of its existence and its wards are strong. Alain promised me that he would ensure their safety."

Jean-Sebastian appeared like he would prefer to continue in his protestations, but given the direction the conversation had taken, he realized that he did not truly have a leg left to stand on. As a result, he sighed and after letting out a grimace looked her in the eye and nodded.

"I don't like it, but I suppose I have no choice."

"Smooth, Ambassador," the matron said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Most men would argue and bluster and carry on for some time before realizing that they have no choice."

"I like to think that I have him well-trained," Apolline replied with a laugh, to which the matron responded in kind.

When the merriment died down, the matron turned back to Jean-Sebastian, who was scowling openly. "Oh don't be upset, Ambassador," she chided gently. "You men say much the same about women when talking amongst yourselves, do you not?"

Jean-Sebastian smirked, though there was little mirth in his manner. "A gentleman never admits to such a thing, Madam Pomfrey."

"Well said," Madam Pomfrey replied delightedly. "Now, after examining you, I can state that you are once again in the best of health. You may leave at any time."

"Excellent," Jean-Sebastian replied. "I thank you for your care and attention."

He stepped down from the bed and smiled at Apolline. "I believe Fleur said something about lunch in the Great Hall. Would you care to join us?"

"Of course, good sir," Apolline replied, and she grasped his arm as they made their way from the hospital in the company of the children, who were speaking quietly with one another behind them. It did not escape Apolline's attention that Harry walked in the middle of the two girls, and that he held a hand of each girl in one of his own. She would have to speak with Fleur—Apolline knew that some progress had been made, but it appeared like they were now open about their relationship. Hopefully Fleur was as happy now with this development as she had previously been resigned to its necessity.

But that was an issue to be dealt with at a later date. For now, the confrontation with Jean-Sebastian had proceeded much better than Apolline had expected, though she was not foolish enough to believe that the subject was closed. Jean-Sebastian would undoubtedly have much more to say—he was just too much of a gentleman to make a scene in front of others.

For Fleur, deeply conflicted as she was by recent events, the arrival of her mother was a godsend, as she felt that she needed a mother's guidance more than ever before. The trick, of course, was to arrange to speak with her in private—at this point, and with her still rather confused state of mind, Fleur did not want Harry to know of her thoughts—which was a little more difficult to arrange than she might have thought.

After her father's release from Madam Pomfrey's care, they had made their way for lunch as proposed and sat with their friends at the Gryffindor table. What Fleur could not have predicted was the almost celebrity status her parents immediately enjoyed. Not only had her father been present for the entirety of the attack on the Ministry, but he had also been injured during a courageous last stand in the Minister's office, defending a woman to whom he had, in actuality, no true allegiance. He told his story to the riveted attentions of anyone who could cram in close enough to hear, and was able to provide intelligence as to the state of Minister's health, which was particularly of interest to Susan Bones, who had worried for her aunt's safety.

As for her mother, Apolline had been targeted by the Dark Lord himself, and had lived to tell the tale, though she had been quick to point out the fact that she had merely fled the scene in as expeditious a manner as possible. That did nothing to quell the interest and, in a few cases, outright awe at having escaped intact. But though her mother did not explicitly state it, Fleur caught on to the fact that she had changed into her second shape in order to evade her would-be captors by the way she described the encounter and, perhaps more importantly, what she left out. Veela were generally sensitive about their bird form, and could not be induced to discuss it openly unless absolutely necessary.

Of course, there was also Apolline's Veela allure and beautiful looks to consider, and though the allure was kept under firm control, the looks were not controllable. The effect her mother had on the hall was even worse than that which Fleur engendered as, for all that Fleur knew that her own features could be devastating, she had also been among the Hogwarts student body for the last eight months and the boys attending the school had to a certain extent become used to her presence. It also did not hurt that she was very publicly attached to Harry, which had ameliorated some of the blatant discrimination she had received while at Beauxbatons. Apolline, however, was a mature Veela in the prime of her beauty and sexuality, whereas Fleur was only just moving from a girl to a woman, which made Apolline even more overwhelming to the adolescent boys of the school. Apolline took no overt notice, however, contenting herself with speaking quietly to her husband and those of Harry's close friends who were close by, and ignoring the dreamy and slightly befuddled looks of most of the other boys in the hall.

Thus, with all that went on at lunch, there was simply no opportunity to have a private discussion between them. And then after lunch, her parents found it necessary to retire to the small suite of rooms which the Headmaster had provided for their use, for a discussion in a slightly more intimate setting.

As she waited for them to appear, Fleur became more than a little agitated—she had a free period right after lunch, but was scheduled to go into Charms for the final period of the day. Knowing that she was far too consumed with thoughts of Harry and his relationship with Hermione and that it would affect her in class, Fleur had almost determined to skip Charms in order to be able to speak with her mother.

At length, however, the door to the room in which her parents had been ensconced for the better part of the previous hour opened, and they stepped out. Apolline sported an almost smug expression as she gazed at her husband, while Jean-Sebastian wore one that could only be termed as resigned.

Leaping to her feet, Fleur almost instantly blurted, "Mother, may I speak with you?" She immediately colored, but her mother appeared to take no notice of Fleur's behavior.

"Of course, my dear."

Meanwhile, Fleur's father was watching her, no doubt guessing what she wished to discuss with her mother. He did not say anything on the matter, however, choosing instead to leave them to speak alone.

He kissed both on the cheek, telling them, "I believe I would like to have a word with Dumbledore before tonight." He turned to Apolline. "You likely haven't heard—Remus has returned."

Greeting that news with a sharp look of worry, Apolline asked, "And do we know what he has discovered?"

"Unfortunately not," Jean-Sebastian replied with a grimace. "But according to Dumbledore, the news is not good."

Apolline searched his face for a moment before she sighed. "Harry will need us, then."

No one replied to her words, but for an instant Fleur felt ashamed of her thoughts. Here she was worrying about relationships, where for Harry the information to be divulged tonight was literally a matter of life and death.

Jean-Sebastian took his leave soon after, and Fleur was left with her mother, though now she wondered if she should leave this matter alone until the rest of their issues had been dealt with. So caught up in her thoughts was she that she had not even noticed the passage of time until her mother, clearly amused over her distraction, cleared her throat.

"Did you intend for me to guess what you wanted to talk about?" her mother's wry voice interrupted her thoughts. "Or did you simply wish for me to watch you while you worry over your problem in silence?"

Coloring, Fleur attempted to treat the matter as though it was of no consequence, though her insides were still churning over her continued uncertainty. "Maybe I was a little too hasty, Maman. It is nothing."

"Fleur, it is not 'nothing,'" Apolline responded with a frown. "Something is obviously bothering you. If I can help you, I will."

The compassion and love in her mother's voice ended up being Fleur's undoing. Stifling a sob which made it past her clenched lips, Fleur allowed her head to be drawn to her mother's breast, where Apolline put her arms around her and comforted her, much as she had when Fleur was a little girl. This, of course, broke down the final barriers on Fleur's emotions, and she began to weep on her mother's shoulder. The emotional outburst was amazingly cathartic, as she had not even been aware herself of the pent up emotion she had suppressed, and all in the space of only two days! By the time she had quieted and was ready to speak on the matter further, she felt the release of emotion had imparted the strength to actually do so.

"Thank you, Maman," she said quietly, drawing away and using the sleeve of her robe to wipe away the residual tears on her cheeks. "I do not know what came over me."

Apolline fixed an appraising look on her as though Fleur was an oddity to be studied, before she responded. "Whatever it is, it appears to be serious, Fleur. Come. Tell me what has upset you so."

Hesitantly, but gaining the will to comply, Fleur began to speak, relating the events of the past two days and the suspicion she had begun to entertain of Harry's feelings for Hermione and his contrasting feelings for her. She left nothing out—Hermione's abduction and rescue, Harry's single-minded will to rescue her, their interactions since, Fleur's growing doubts—all she lay bare before Apolline, hoping her mother could help her sort through the mess of her emotions. For her part, Apolline listened carefully to what she said only speaking up to ask questions or clarify Fleur's narration.

When her recitation had wound down to its conclusion, Apolline watched her appraisingly for several moments before replying. "Fleur, do you remember our conversation last summer, when we spoke of Harry's relationship with Hermione?"

Fleur hung her head and replied in a quiet voice, "Yes, Maman. I should have listened to you."

"Perhaps," her mother said with a laugh. "But I do not believe that the matter is as difficult as you seem to think. The most difficult part of child-rearing is to raise your children in a loving but firm manner, but also to know when to let go when they become old enough to make their own choices. You are a fine and talented young woman, but as any other young person you suffer from the lack of experience. I do not think it is a surprise to you to understand that the reason why I was against this was because I was afraid you would be hurt."

Apolline paused for a moment, looking at Fleur with a focused stare. "However, I can honestly tell you that I'm not worried about you being hurt any longer."

Nonplused, Fleur returned her mother's gaze with no little astonishment. "Wh… What do you mean?" she finally stammered.

"Fleur, can you not sense his feelings for you?" Apolline queried.

"Of course I can," Fleur replied, a hint of indignation entering her voice. "What I can't tell is where I stand in comparison with Hermione."

"That's your mistake, Fleur," said Apolline in a quiet voice. "Harry's love for you is different from his love for Hermione. But that does not mean that he loves you any less.

Fleur frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Listen to me carefully, Fleur, and I will explain," said Apolline, while gathering Fleur's hands between her own. "I have admittedly not met Harry for several months before this afternoon, but I can tell you that boy loves you fiercely—that I do not doubt. But you must never think that Harry's feelings for you and Hermione will be in every way equal. You are different people, each with your own strengths and weaknesses, and it is simply not possible for Harry to feel exactly the same way about you both. You must also remember that this arrangement you have set up means that you will not always be the most important woman in his life. There will be times when events are such that his focus will be on Hermione. At other times he will concentrate on you. That is what you will both need to accept if you are both to create successful relationships with him.

"When Hermione was abducted and injured, he acted in a fashion which showed his love for her. I am certain that had it been you in that situation, he would have reacted in exactly the same manner."

For Fleur her mother's words had almost acted like a sudden light shining into the darkest night. She had never considered it in that manner, perhaps because she was too close to the situation. Or perhaps it was because she had immediately been assaulted by the insidious onslaught of fear, which had left her incapable of rationally working it out on her own.

Whatever the reason, her mother's rational explanation gave her hope—hope that whatever may come between them, she would always share a portion of Harry's heart; a portion which was hers alone. That Hermione would also have her own measure of Harry's regard was not a bothersome thought now, though some niggling doubt as to whether he truly loved her remained. For that, however, she knew she would have to speak with Harry and acquaint him with her concerns. With respect to Hermione, however, she was Fleur's dearest friend and they could surely manage to get along with a man who had the capacity of loving them both in immeasurable amounts.

And all of this, her mother accomplished with only a few words. It was a trifle embarrassing, if Fleur was to be honest with herself.

"I think I need to speak with Harry," Fleur finally said, a little chagrinned at the fact that the obvious had eluded her.

"I believe that might be for the best," her mother replied with fond amusement. "And I think you might have figured this out for yourself, had you been able to step away from the problem and consider it without emotion getting in the way."

"You are likely right," was Fleur's rueful reply.

"The heart can be a very difficult organ," Apolline said, in a pompous tone, no doubt intended to be sage, though her eyes twinkled with mirth. "Even for Veela. We cannot always figure it out ourselves without another perspective."

"Thank you, Maman!" Fleur exclaimed, flinging her arms around her mother's shoulders.

"You are very welcome, my darling daughter. I believe everything has and will work out for the best. You just need to have some faith in your betrothed. Speak with him at your first opportunity."

"I will."

The two women moved onto other topics and their conversation lasted well into the late afternoon. Fleur never did make it to her Charms class.

Harry looked at Fleur with a curious eye, wondering what she wished to speak with him concerning. It was nearing the time when they were to meet in the Headmaster's office to hear Remus's information about horcruxes and Harry found himself anxious to hear what the man had to say. To be truthful, Harry was not expecting good news—Remus's countenance when they had met the previous day had not suggested that his information was good. Harry was trying to keep a positive mindset, but it was difficult, considering the subject matter.

Turning his attention back to Fleur, Harry wondered at her reticence—he had never known her to be so, not even when they were first introduced. But her behavior in the past few days had been different. She had been withdrawn, sometimes appeared to be almost distressed, and at others, even a little wistful. He would never call Fleur bubbly, but she had always been a happy, vibrant sort of person. So when she had requested to speak with him privately, he had hoped that she would share with him what was bothering her. But the waiting was a little irksome, if Harry were to be honest, due to his impatience to hear what Remus had to impart

"Harry," Fleur began with a hesitance which was so unlike his betrothed, "I wanted to speak with you about something. I wanted… I wanted to know what you think."

"Is this about whatever has been bothering you the last few days?"

Fleur colored and turned her head away slightly. "I should have realized that you would notice."

"It was a little hard to miss," Harry replied to her gently. "What's bothering you?"

She was quiet for several moments, apparently struggling for words. Then, after a moment of two, when it was clear she was struggling with her emotions, she blurted out, "You do know me well, don't you?"

"I would like to think so," Harry replied, incredulous at the implication that she though he did not know her, even after the events of the past year.

At that, it appeared as though a dam had burst and the words flowed out in a torrent. Harry listened as she explained what had been bothering her—how she had watched him go rushing off to rescue Hermione, wondering if he would do the same for her; how he had paid attention to Hermione, wondering at the exact state of his feelings for her; and perhaps worst of all, how he had loved Hermione, suspecting that he had already confessed his love for her, while wondering if she would always be second best in his heart.

Within the confines of his own mind, Harry cursed himself for a fool. He had known for some time now how he felt about both girls—from the epiphany the night of their sojourn to the Ministry, and even further back than that, had he been at all intelligent enough to recognize his own feelings. But had he told her? No he had not. He thought that he had showed it adequately enough in the attentions he paid to both girls, but Fleur, who did not have the history with him that he shared with Hermione, and seeing the care and attention he gave to his oldest friend, could not be certain, regardless of her Veela senses. It was hardly a surprise that she was uncertain.

All of this he could have prevented with a few short, yet honest, words. Well, that and a little more attention to her in addition to Hermione. For the first time Harry understood what it would mean to love two girls. It would take his constant diligence to ensure that they were both afforded his attention, and that they both felt valued and loved at all times. It suddenly seemed like a more daunting task than he had ever before anticipated.

But do it he would—there was no turning back.

He faced his beautiful betrothed and did the first thing which came to his mind; he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, pouring everything he felt for her into that kiss. At first Fleur stiffened, no doubt surprised by his impulsive action, but it was not long before she began to respond with a passion equal to his own. She molded into his arms and pressed herself to him like she belonged there—which she did, he did not doubt—and for one brief moment, Harry almost thought they were one being, so close were they to one another.

Harry broke it off when the passion became too intense, not wishing to push it beyond what they were both ready to share, but rather than completely pull away from her, he eased away, continuing to shower her face with nips and kisses, making his way from the line of her jaw, over the beautiful contours of her face, her eyelids, and down the other side of her neck. Fleur sighed with the pleasure of his attentions and Harry, perhaps a trifle smugly, reveled in his ability to reduce two beautiful girls to puddles of desire.

Finally, Harry ceased his attentions and leaned his forehead into hers. "In case it's not obvious," he said in a raspy voice filled with emotion, "I love you very much."

Tears escaping from her beautiful eyes, Fleur smiled and returned in a tremulous voice, "And I love you."

"I also need to tell you that I'm a git who doesn't have the sense of a flobberworm."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak that way about the man I love," Fleur said with an impish smile.

"Only when he deserves it," Harry replied seriously. "I've known my feelings for you for some time. I was just so caught up in everything that has been happening that I neglected to tell you. I am sorry, Fleur."

"It's completely understandable, Harry. You have had a lot on your mind."

"A lot on my mind or not," Harry said in a very firm tone of voice, "I cannot forget about the important things in my life. You are far more important than anything else, Fleur. I can't allow myself to forget that."

"And I should have trusted my senses. They told me that you loved me. I also should not have made it into a competition between Hermione and me."

"I would never have you competing with each other, Fleur. I love you both, though in different ways. You and I have come together in a much more unconventional way than Hermione and I, but I don't love you any less than I love Hermione."

"Maman told me the same thing."

"Your mother is a wise woman, Fleur." Harry then paused for a moment, considering Fleur's feelings and his feelings for both girls. It was perhaps a good thing this had come out now, as it would prevent problems later. (Or so he hoped!) But there was something here that he was certain she had not considered, and Harry felt that it was important she understand.

"Fleur, you do understand that our relationship will never be the same as the one I share with Hermione, right?"

Fleur tilted her head to one side. "I do know that, but I expect that you mean something different from just having different feelings?"

"Yes." Standing, Harry paced the room a little, working off some nervous energy while he considered exactly how to say what he wanted her to understand.

When he had settled it in his own mind, he turned and faced her. She was silent, watching him with a curious eye, but all traces of her previous insecurity were now gone, replaced with a level of contentment he did not think he had ever seen in her. Perhaps she had not considered the state of their relationship consciously before, but this had obviously been bothering her on some level for quite some time now. He would have considered himself an imbecile all over again, but he realized that never having truly known her previously, he could not have been expected to understand her on an intimate level and to notice the signs of her previous discontent, if it could even have been termed as such.

"Fleur, I wouldn't want our relationship to progress they way my relationship with Hermione has."

Almost wincing at the way the blurted statement had issued from his lips, Harry looked at Fleur, half afraid of what her reaction would be. To her credit, although she certainly did not understand him, she did not make any assumptions. She merely waited for him to continue.

"I'm sorry for how that must have sounded, but it's true. Think about it—Hermione and I have been through some pretty hair-raising events since I've known her. There was the troll and the stone in first year; then the basilisk and everything that went on there in second year; Sirius, the Dementors, and everything that happened with Moony, including time-turning at the end of the year in third; the tournament and everything there last year, though Hermione was never truly in danger; and then this thing with Malfoy this year. Our relationship has been forged in the fire of some pretty incredible events. Would you want to be in all those dangerous situations in order for our relationship to become like the one I have with Hermione?"

Fleur's eyes lit up at his explanation and she gazed at him, a new light of understanding inherent in her face.

"Then consider our relationship. Our first meeting was not good, and the way we got together is not exactly normal, but since then we've been allowed to get to know one another in a more normal way. It's been great," he admitted shyly. "It's been like we were just young sweethearts exploring our new feelings for each other, learning about each other and learning how to love each other. It's been almost like a normal teenage romance and as you know, I've not had a lot of normality in my life.

"Hermione is my compass and my will to fight. You are my reason to fight and my link back to normalcy. You both have different roles in my life, but that doesn't mean that either of you is less important than the other."

Once again overcome with emotion, Fleur directed a tremulous smile at him. "I don't think I ever considered it that way, Harry. Thank you for explaining it to me. I should never have doubted you."

"No you shouldn't," another voice spoke up from the door.

Hermione stood there looking at them both with a bit of an emotional smile. "I'm sorry… I came to get you—everyone is ready in Dumbledore's office. I couldn't help but overhear."

She came toward them with a hesitant, but determined stride. She brushed Harry's cheek with a kiss, before she turned to embrace Fleur, one which was returned fiercely by the French blond.

"I would never allow you to be something less than me, Fleur," Hermione said with conviction. "I'd break it off with Harry before I'd allow that to happen to you."

"Neither of you will ever be second best," Harry replied. "I love you both, and I can't imagine not loving either one of you."

"Just remember that, buster," Hermione said with a grin and a poke in his side. "We'll hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it," Harry replied.

Grasping both girls' hands, Harry bestowed a kiss on the back of each before he pulled them both from the room.

"Come on. Remus has found something and we need to find out what it is."

In Dumbledore's office, Remus sat on a chair desperately attempting to control his nervous fidgeting. He was not looking forward to the coming conversation and the hope that he would essentially be destroying. Harry appeared so happy—even happier than he had been when Remus had last seen him. Unless Remus missed his guess, he had not only become immeasurably closer to Fleur in the intervening months, but he had also drawn closer to Hermione, a development which Remus could only applaud. He had thought back in Harry's third year that the girl was a perfect match for him.

But now, the war and the doom Voldemort's actions had wrought must be brought back to the forefront. The dissemination would not be pleasant, not when it brought with it an even more insidious evil than they had originally thought. How would he be able to look his best friend's son in the eye and tell him what he knew?

To his side, Tonks appeared to be as ill at ease as Remus was himself. She, alone of those in the office—which also included Dumbledore, Sirius, and the Delacours—knew what Remus knew about horcruxes. She appeared to feel the burden as much as he felt it himself.

Still, they had to make the rest of them aware of what they now knew. If Voldemort ever discovered the true nature of horcruxes, he would become all that much more dangerous and difficult to stop. If he had known what he was doing all those years ago, Remus wondered if he might already be well on his way to taking over the magical world; or at least burrowed deeper into the world without anyone being any wiser to what he was up to, and therefore immeasurably more dangerous. It was not a comforting thought.

They had been waiting for a few moments—longer than he had expected, seeing that Hermione had left more than ten minutes before to fetch Harry and Fleur—when the door to the office opened and in walked the three teens. Remus studied Harry as he approached and sat down with a greeting to the entire room. His original impression from the previous day was confirmed easily to Remus's mind, making this discussion all that much more difficult. Even so, Harry carried himself with a confidence Remus could not remember witnessing, not to mention an air of authority, and a determination to do what needed to be done. He would undoubtedly need both in the coming months.

As the door closed behind the teens and they took their seats, Dumbledore took his wand up from his desk and cast a series of privacy charms and wards, ensuring the conversation stayed within the confines of the room. He even attended to the portraits, obscuring them and placing a sound barrier on them so that they would not be able to hear the conversation. That completed, he turned to the company and greeted them.

"Thank you all for joining us here. Remus and Miss Tonks have returned from Egypt with some information. Indeed, they appear to have succeeded beyond our wildest dreams."

"Succeeded in finding out more information," Remus spoke up. "We did find out a lot about horcruxes, but the information is secret, as is the method we used to find it. Before we can continue, we need to guide you all through a series of oaths to protect this information. Without this, we can tell you nothing."

"Then we had best get to it," Jean-Sebastian spoke up.

Drawing upon the methods and the information the society had passed on to him, Remus led the entire group through the oaths, which included—among other things—promises not to relay the information they were about to hear to anyone who did not already know unless they also swore the oaths, not to use the information for their own gain or to benefit others, and not to attempt to actually invoke the magic themselves.

When that was done, Remus collected his thoughts for a moment before he launched into the explanation.

"As you have already heard, we have discovered a source of information on horcruxes. Unfortunately, the information we have here in Britain, if any such truly exists any more, is faulty and incomplete. Horcruxes are much fouler devices than we had ever thought." Remus paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "In fact, it's probably more correct to say that it's fortunate that the information which exists here is not more complete, as Voldemort would be much more dangerous if he knew the truth. For that we can only be grateful."

Remus turned and faced Harry, and with some trembling of emotion said, "I'm sorry, Harry. Though I can now tell you exactly what horcruxes are, where they came from, and even in a general sense how they are created, one thing came up over and over again in the scrolls. There is no known way to remove a soul piece from a horcrux once it has been created. Given everything known about horcruxes, about magical theory, and about the very nature of the soul, removing a horcrux is simply impossible!"

Updated 06/03/2014